Carnival Charlatan

by Skeeter Enright

  “You don’t think it’s just a hunch. The fact that you believe it is good enough for me.” She dished the eggs onto two plates and added toast. Setting the plates on the table, she slid in across from him. “What did the guy look like?”

  “The description I have is he was tall, balding, and had a large mole next to his nose on the right side of his face.” He buttered his toast and took a fork full of eggs. They were delicious.

  She said, “I remember a guy with a mole back in Cleveland. He was a little scary. I almost pepper sprayed him.”

  “Was it before or after the tornado?” Craig asked.

  “He had a reading before the tornado.”

  “Did you see him after the tornado?”

  “I had to go traveling the day after the tornado, so I didn’t see him, but I’ll ask around.”

  “I could ask,” Craig said.

  She grinned and shook her head. “No Carney will talk to you. It’s not our way.”

  “You’re talking to me.”

  “Yes, but I’m special.” Her smile was dazzling.

  “Yes, you are.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  While Craig showered, I went out to ask about his serial killer. I had to put up with some good-natured ribbing about sleeping with the enemy. At least Janie had some information. When I got back to my trailer, Craig was rubbing his hair with my last towel.

  “One of the gang said a guy with a mole was looking for me the day after the tornado,” I said.

  Craig lit up like a pinball machine when I told him what Janie said. He considered it a solid lead. He got his computer out of his car.

  “Craig, using a computer around me isn’t a good idea.”

  “Don’t worry. I have a surge protector.”

  I didn’t make it to the door before the machine died with a zap and a trail of smoke.

  Craig was absolutely jittering with his need to find the guy with the mole. “I don’t want to leave you alone. It’s just that if I don’t find this guy, he’ll kill again.”

  My white knight. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. There’re lots of people around. Besides, you need to find another computer and buy some comfortable clothes.” I walked him to the gate. When I hugged him goodbye, he smelled like my apricot shampoo and onions. Not an appealing combination, but I didn’t mind.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I watched him go with his shiny shoes and brown T-shirt. What an endearing geek. I couldn’t get the grin off my face.

  When I turned to go back to my tent, Mister D was leaning against the entrance booth. “You know he’s a Fed, don’t you?”

  I blushed. “Yeah, I know, but he’s an awfully nice guy. He’s trying to protect me.”

  “Mmm…hum, is that what he was doing?” Mister D sauntered off singing “I Shot the Sheriff”, which I thought was in really poor taste.

  It was only eight in the morning. Not many people were stirring on the midway yet. The carnival didn’t officially open until ten. I decided to take a walk around the grounds to check how my wards were holding up. As I walked along the low fence by the parking lot, a man stood up from behind a battered Dodge.

  I barely had time to register his height and something in his hand when every nerve in my body fired at the same moment. I convulsed and fell twitching to the ground. There were wires coming from my shoulder. I heard him jump the fence. I tried to roll away. My muscles wouldn’t respond. They just shuddered randomly. I saw the dangling mole as he leaned over me. It was the crazy mark from Cleveland. The adrenalin surge caused my muscles to go rigid. I tasted acid vomit in my mouth. Why did I let Craig leave?

  He muttered, “I am an instrument of God,” as he heaved me over the fence. I felt the chain link rip into my back as I fell. The air whooshed out of my lungs when I hit the ground. I moved my arms and legs with some volition, swimming away across the ground on my back. With the eerie smile I remembered, he pressed the gun’s button, sending me back into convulsions.

  Amidst my jerking and twitching, I saw Big Mike looming over the crazy. I thought, I’m saved. As Mike touched him, the crazy whirled, quick as a snake. I don’t know where the knife came from, but in one smooth motion, he cut Mike’s throat. I watched, still twitching uncontrollably. Mike fell on the other side of the fence. He looked right at me. His mouth moved…only blood bubbled out. More blood spurted from the artery in his neck. His eyes glazed over. Oh, Mike. I tried to scream but only managed a gargled, gulping noise.

  The crazy pulled me into the back seat of his car. I lost sight of Mike. He shoved something large and soft into my mouth. My spastic limbs were useless as I tried to kick and scratch. He taped my hands and ankles together. A rag with a gagging sweet smell took the last of the fight out of me.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  My head pounded, and the gag in my mouth tasted like it was made from someone’s shorts. The scratch on my back burned like I’d been branded. Every muscle in my body ached. Even my eyeballs hurt. I was naked. My numb hands were duct-taped behind my back, my ankles taped as well. I lay on the bathroom floor of what looked like a cheap hotel. Mold covered the grout at the base of the toilet in front of my face. It was cold. The room reeked of urine and despair.

  Mike was dead. He’d tried to save me, and he was dead.

  I could hear the crazy asshole in the other room. He chanted something in a low voice. I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to let the long-faced, warty son-of-a-bitch get close enough to hit me with a stun gun or whatever it was that had zapped me. For that matter, I couldn’t believe the device functioned when it was close to me. Just my luck—of all the electronics that won’t work around me, a Taser is the one that does.

  From what Craig had told me about the murders, I doubted if the guy would kill me here. He had staged elaborate, painful deaths for his victims. I had to get myself out.

  I could make a way and roll through to the Outlands, but bound and naked was not a good condition to be in when rolling into the unknown. Most of the spells I could use needed my hands free. I at least needed to be in less pain, so I could focus better. I had to get my mind clear.

  I couldn’t think about Mike. He’d tried to save me, and now, he was dead. I was still alive. I wasn’t going to let his sacrifice be for nothing. This crazy was going to find out I was no victim.

  I closed my eyes, steadied my breathing, and cleared my mind, idea by idea. First, I put Mike aside. I would mourn him when I was safe. I ignored the sound of the creep chanting in the other room. I dispelled the pain in my hands and head. When I opened my eyes, what I focused on was a black towel draped across the mirror. Why the hell did he cover the mirror?

  The mirror made me think of one spell I could do in my head. It was a simple camouflage spell. It took a bit of energy, and it had its limitations, but it was better than waiting for the murderer to come for me. Oh, Mike. My stomach churned as I thought of the blood spurting from his neck. If I threw up with the gag in my mouth, I would choke to death. I turned the fear to rage. Mike had not died for nothing.

  I calmed my breathing again and tried to focus the turmoil in my head. No one was coming to the rescue. I had better get busy saving myself.

  I managed to roll myself to my bound feet. I leaned against the sink and got my head under the towel covering the mirror. I heard the crazy guy moving in the other room. I focused as well as the pounding in my brain would let me. The mirror felt cool against my flushed face. I muttered mirror, mirror, mirror behind my gag, to drown out the pounding. It helped focus the spell. The silver of the mirror flowed over my body. It reflected what was behind me to the front of me, essentially making me transparent. As the silver flowed over me, I bunny-hopped behind the door between the sink and wall. I settled in place just as the crazy came through.

  He was still chanting some incomprehensible jargon. When he didn’t see me, he screamed in rage. He looked in the tub, then right through me, where I was behind the door.

  He slamme
d out of the bathroom, shouting, “Witch, the sigil is made. You must die, Witch. God’s wrath cannot be stopped.”

  Freaking certifiable.

  I heard the outer door slam. After a few minutes, I was sure he was gone. I let the mirror harden back to glass. It shattered off my body, tinkling to the floor in thin, almost transparent shards. Rubbing my face along the edge of the bathroom vanity, I was able to scrape off the tape and spit out the vile gag. The corner of the vanity did nothing to the heavy layers of duct tape on my wrists. The creep might come back at any minute. I was desperate.

  My first instinct was to do the cheesy movie thing and start screaming until someone came to saved me. I took a breath to start, then let my lungs deflate without a sound. The nutcase would probably come back. Even if the police came, he might be able to convince them this was some sort of sex play. A couple of years ago, there was a news story about a serial killer who convinced the police a lover’s spat had driven a bleeding, naked young man into the street. The police gave the kid back to him. He promptly killed the boy and ate the tender portions. No screaming, Airy. Start thinking.

  I couldn’t even dial a phone. Who could come quietly? A tiny pink fairy popped into my mind. “Andieriallas, Andieriallas, Andieriallas,” I called three times.

  Less than a minute later, the little pixie appeared in the room. Her iridescent wings fluttered as she bobbed in the air in front of me. “Oh, Ariel.” She tilted her whole body as a larger being would have tilted her head. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to get away from a crazy person. Could you help me cut my hands free? I need to do it quickly,” I said.

  She tilted the other direction, looking at me quizzically. I was ready to explain what I needed again, when she flew around behind me. “The bindings are fair strong,” she said.

  I heard a tinkling sound by the floor. A shard of the fine glass and a bit of toilet paper made a perfect knife for her tiny hands. She was able to cut the duct tape while only slightly mutilating my wrists. I had my legs free seconds later.

  “Thank you, Andi.”

  “I am honored to be of service to the bird rider Ariel. Have you given me the name Andi for this world?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I said absently.

  A peek out the window showed only two cars at the far end of the parking lot. The exterior of the Motel was dirty tan with green trim. I went in search of my clothes. The main room smelled of mold and sex. A ‘No Tell Motel”. A four-foot cross was propped against the wall, and the same black cloth covered the pictures that covered the mirror in the bathroom. There was a thick hemp rope and a pile of cement blocks along one wall.

  Andi followed me around the room. My clothes were nowhere to be found, so I grabbed the crazy’s shirt lying on the bed. Mike’s blood spattered it, but I put it on anyway. I pulled a black cloth from where it covered a picture and wrapped it around my waist as a skirt. The creep’s blood-spattered shoes were huge. They slopped on my feet, but they were better than nothing.

  The picture my skirt cloth had covered was an innocuous, pastoral scene. Why would he cover it up? On the desk by the TV was parchment paper and a calligraphy pen. I don’t know why this struck me as strange. He was a serial killer after all. I’d taken deviant psychology in school. Nut cases all had their rituals.

  What to do next? Now I was ready for him. The insane bastard was less of a danger to me, but I shouldn’t get cocky. “Andi, could you watch to see if the tall human, with a mole like a grape hanging from his nose, is coming back to this room?” I pointed to the place on my nose where the crazy had his mole. She nodded briefly and flitted off so quickly that she seemed to disappear.

  A normal person would call the police, but I’m a Carney. We handle our own problems. Searching the room, I found pamphlets for a revival meeting with the Honorable Right Reverend Parris. Honorable, my fine behind! He killed Mike. The son-of-a-bitch wasn’t walking away. I grabbed the phone and dialed Mister D.

  Chapter Thirty

  Craig whistled along with the radio as he headed back to the carnival. He wasn’t sure if his good mood was due to last night with Ariel or the fact that his hunch about Parris was correct. He was going to get the guy. Ariel’s identification and the other Carny’s confirmation that the man was stalking the carnival made it legal for him to investigate Evan Parris. The photo on Parris’s driver license confirmed the distinctive dangling mole. Credit card records placed Parris in the same area as six of the murders. With that information, he was able to get a court order to access Parris’s records. It showed breaking and entering, assault, and arson. In Cleveland, Parris had called himself a reverend, but Craig could find no record he had been ordained by any church. He should have no trouble convincing his lieutenant to bring Parris in for questioning.

  Turning into the carnival, the tune died on his lips. Police cars filled the parking lot, their lights flashing. A coroner’s van was conspicuous in its dark silence.

  Tension filled his chest, and his breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. He parked and sat for a minute, steeling himself for what he might find behind the crime scene tape. He shouldn’t have left her.

  His badge got him past the patrol officer charged with keeping the gawkers away. A tape on the other side of the fence held back an assortment of Carnies. Several had obviously been crying. He didn’t see Ariel. He was finding it hard to breathe.

  The weight in his chest eased when he saw the body of a big man wearing coveralls, rather than the slim female he had feared. Crime scene technicians swarmed about, taking pictures and bagging bits of debris from the area. A detective was talking to a tall, handsome man with brilliantly white teeth. Even from a distance, Craig recognized him as the man who had come into Ariel’s tent last night.

  A Detective came over to him, moving with light steps that belied his girth. “I’m Detective Phil Madison.” They shook hands. “I didn’t realize the FBI had been called in on this one,” he said.

  “We weren’t called in. I was here yesterday doing some background on a person of interest in an ongoing investigation. What do you think happened?” Craig knew he was on thin ice. Technically, he was on vacation. He was hoping the detective in charge wouldn’t check on him too closely.

  “Other than this guy getting his throat cut, we don’t have a lot yet. These Carneys are pretty closed-mouthed.”

  “Is the body a Carney?”

  “Looks like. His name’s Michael Murphy.” The detective slicked back his thinning hair.

  “Maybe I can help you out. I have a source I might be able to get something out of,” Craig said. He had no idea if Ariel would talk to him or not, but it would be worth a try.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Ariel, Ariel.” The little pixie came rushing into the room. “He comes, he comes.”

  “Oh, shit,” I whispered. Mister D’s phone was still ringing. I saw a shadow pass the curtained window a step from the door. The key rattled in the lock.

  I was out of options. I opened a way and stepped through, just as the Reverend Crazy walked through the door. He screamed, “Witch!” as I closed the way behind me.

  I came out in a clearing on a hillside surrounded by thick forest. I realized this was a fairy circle. Roughly rectangular rocks stood sentinel every few feet along the edge of the dark trees. In the distance, I heard what sounded like dogs howling. Just great. Here I was with no protection. Not even a piece of steel. At least the rocks didn’t look like trows.

  I spun in place to make sure nothing was coming up behind me. Nothing was moving as far as I could see. I was afraid to move. I didn’t know where I would end up. I ripped a piece of the shirt off and laid it down to mark where I had come into the Outlands. I took a few steps down the hill and opened another way back to my world.

  I could hear the water before I stuck my head through. I was over water. It didn’t smell like ocean. Maybe it was Lake Michigan. I closed the way, took two steps back, and tried again. Still over water. O
kay, not an option. I closed the way and walked back to my bit of shirt. Closer now, I heard what sounded like horns along with the barking hounds.

  I turned ninety degrees, took three steps, and opened another way. Damn! More water. I could feel a ley-line nearby in my world. The energy of the line felt evil. I definitely didn’t want to swim near it.

  The sounds of horns and hounds were getting nearer. Over the top of the hill, I could hear the rumble of hooves. Adrenaline surged. I wanted to jump through to my world. If I wasn’t more afraid of the ley-line than what was coming over the hill, I would have jumped. As the way fell closed, I fought an urge to run screaming. I looked for a place to hide.

  The sparrow-sized pixie I had met when Andieriallas first came to me in Evansville appeared in front of me. Still clad in his pop tab armor, he brandished a tiny silver knife, which was the size of a sword for him. “Ariel, it is the Wild Hunt! You must flee.” As he spoke, the hounds came over the top of the hill. These were not pretty foxhounds. They were slavering, dire wolf-sized monster dogs. Their glowing red eyes fixed on me.

  Making a way was out of the question…frying pan, fire. I grabbed the silver knife from the pixie and scribed a faint circle around us with its soft edge on the flat rock—an instant before the lead hound reached us. I powered the circle. The hound sprang and smashed against the invisible barrier, teeth gnashing, feet scrabbling. The rest of the pack circled us, howling at a frenzied rate. The pop tab pixie fluttered to my shoulder and hid in my hair.

  The huntsmen arrived. Some were on horses, and others were riding a variety of animals. A silver-clad woman sat astride a huge tiger. A goat-faced man, with curling horns and yellow eyes, rode an elk. A being with blue feathers and a broad beak like a puffin rode an ostrich. Others rode creatures never described in Fairy tales. It was the Wild Hunt, and I was their prey. Could my day get any better?